Matias obeyed and, while Jaggen remained where he was, Matias edged along the pillar until he could peer through the doorway. The gloom behind was washed in a purple light and Matias found himself staring at a sweeping vestibule lined with huge pillars that were worked through with intricate cog designs. The designs matched the patterns etched onto the nearby stone wall and the vaulted ceiling that reached upwards by at least several miles, according to Matias’ reckoning. The mongrel centipede and its retinue were quite a long way down the other end of the vestibule, and the five kobolds were jogging after it. Matias scanned the surroundings but could see no other guards. Clearly, the excitement generated by the coming of the monster was commanding everyone’s attention.
Sneaking back to Jaggen, he informed him of the situation.
“Good,” the older man said. “Lead on, you will be my eyes.”
The two of them slipped through the opening and Jaggen told Matias to go to the wall closest to them and move along it. Matias did as he was told and edged along it, with Jaggen holding onto his arm for support.
“If I’m right, there should be a narrow staircase set into the wall somewhere along here,” the older man said. “Can you see it?”
“No,” Matias replied. “Nothing.”
He paused when he suddenly saw a gap in the wall. It was an archway and, as Jaggen had said, there was a staircase through it and leading upwards. “Yeah, I got it.”
“Good. We go up,” said Jaggen.
“How did you know this was here?” Matias asked.
“Jhondey told me about it,” Jaggen replied. “It leads to a gallery that overlooks the Upper Hall. Should be a useful spot to check what is going on, I think. I would have had the boy draw us a map of his explorations down here but, knowing that dunderhead, we’d end up on the other side of the world if we followed it.”
Matias suppressed a laugh and headed up the steps, grateful that Jaggen had refused Jhondey permission to come along with them to Kragg. He could do without the boy’s constant prattling, though they could have done with Shunz’s strength.
As they moved along, Matias noticed that—like the pillars outside—the steps were made of brass and felt cold through the soles of his sandals. The steps went upwards in a straight line and seemed never-ending. Still, Matias began to notice that there was another light coming from above. Before long, he was able to remove his goggles and see unaided, thanks to the low aquamarine glow now limning the staircase.
They came to a landing that fed into the gallery Jhondey had told Jaggen about, where overly ornate lamps made of brass and shaped to resemble open mouths hung from the ceiling. Inside each of the ‘mouths’ was a smooth glowing orb, the source of the aquamarine light.
Matias was able to use the eerie illumination to take in the wide walkway. Fluted columns with elegant scrollwork around their bases and capitals lined the open side of the gallery, and held aloft the barrel vaulted ceiling. Though they were corroded by age, Matias could still see remnants of the gilding that still covered them. In their day, they must have looked magnificent. However, Matias wasn’t interested in décor. His attention was on the Upper Hall which was now spread out beneath the gallery.
He stared in silence, trying to take it all in. Like the vestibule beyond the doorway, it was frighteningly huge, carved out of cyclopean blocks that had been bedecked with the cogs and gears motif identical to the towering brass pillars holding up the shadow wreathed ceiling. Mouth-shaped lamps, the same as the ones lining the gallery but twenty times larger, hung suspended from the gloom by heavy chains, bathing the floor below in their ghostly light. It gave the scene an extra surreal edge as Matias took in the stepped terraces that were carved into the sides of the walls. These ran the length of the Upper Hall. Each level was crammed packed with rickety houses cobbled together from assorted pieces of metal and stone. Many of the houses were three or four storeys high, with each level unaligned to the one beneath it so that they tottered crazily and seemed to be only kept from tumbling down by the web of pipes and tubes that jutted up out of the floor and from neighbouring dwellings. Stair cases zigzagged between the terraces, and a network of scaffolding and ladders connected the peaked roofs and exaggeratedly high gables of the houses. The strange looking settlement was a confusing shambles, in the grip of decay and decades of neglect. Empty windows and missing doors bled with darkness.
Tearing his attention away from the baroque settlement, Matias quickly focused on the other more pertinent features of the Upper Hall. Namely, the encampment that had been established near the centre of the vast chamber.
Kobolds in buckskins and leather armour milled between the squat yurt like tents. About twenty of them were eating and drinking by a small campfire, while a few others were playing dice. Large torches burned brightly, competing with the mysterious light source generated by the colony. Matias noted the large pavilion made of animal hide which dominated the camp. At its entrance hung a large black banner with a white spider emblazoned on it.
Jaggen was at his side now, watching the camp. He turned his head when he heard the mournful baying of the mongrel centipede echoing through the hall. Although the two men had come in after the procession was further on down the vestibule, they had been moving a lot slower and it had taken them longer to get here.
As the monster came into sight, the kobolds at the campsite sprang into action. One of them scurried toward the pavilion, while the others hurried to meet the wagon driver.
Drawing their swords, the kobolds joined with the moss mubbs in hectoring the mongrel centipede, making it cry out even louder.
“You know, I’m starting to feel sorry for that guy,” Matias whispered to Jaggen, pointing to the creature.
“Feel sorry for us, if we get caught here,” Jaggen growled back. “Look.”
Matias turned back to the pavilion where Jaggen was pointing. The flap had been flung back, and the kobold which had scurried so quickly in had scurried out just as fast. He was not alone.
Matias let out a sharp breath. “That who I think it is?”
Jaggen nodded. “General Oxgar, himself.”
“I was hoping you weren’t going to say that.”
With slow, ponderous strides, General Oxgar marched from the pavilion and swung his horned head to watch the oncoming centipede. His wide nostrils flared and he bared his fangs. At over fifteen feet tall, the Minotaur was an impenetrable block of muscle and dark brown fur, clad in heavy armour of black metal that was inlaid with red scrollwork. A golden nose ring encrusted with rubies hung from his snout and a large patch of fur around his left eye was missing, revealing dark grey skin wrinkled with scar tissue. The eye itself was also absent, and in its place was a dazzling white diamond, weirdly misshaped and as large as a breezeblock. It bulged grotesquely out of his skull and seemed to have been fused into his eye socket. He walked about on thick black hooves that looked like they could crush every bone in Matias’ body with just a glancing kick. And on his back was a magnificent steel battle-axe studded with jewels and with blades that shone with a sinister red light. The weapon was as large as he was and looked just as terrifying.
As the General folded his massive arms and waited for the procession to reach the encampment, Matias took out his Alder Journal and pointed it at him. He fought down the irrational fear that the General would spot him up here in the gallery and waited with a stoicism he didn’t feel for the journal to create the entry he wanted.
When he opened the book, it made for grim reading:
Creature Name: Minotaur (Oxgar of the Uguant Clan)
Level 18 (Hulking Diabolic Beast)
Alignment: Pragmatic evil
Born a runt on the dismal Plains of Putros, Oxgar barely survived calfhood and had to constantly defend himself against the larger members of his Clan or face the threat of death. His small size and puny strength compared to other Minotaurs made him an outcast, and ashamed by his weakness, his mother ripped out her own womb
, after which he was driven out of his Clan’s hunting lands at a young age. Angry and bitter, Oxgar sought the strength and power he was denied by nature and vowed revenge on his people. Alone in the wilderness, he was soon captured by a band of orc slavers and sold into the service of a powerful warlock. Because of his small size and feeble strength, he was of no use as a soldier, so the warlock used him in his unspeakable experiments, increasing Oxgar’s size and strength, finally turning him into a brutal killing machine. The warlock did such a good job, however, that Oxgar became too powerful for the magic user to control and was brutally murdered by the Minotaur. Finally possessing the power he had always craved, Oxgar returned to his Clan and killed each and every one of them with his bare claws before feasting on their still beating hearts. Since then, he has worked as a hired sword and a bandit, bringing terror and destruction wherever he was gone, and serving evildoers who can afford his high price.
“A charming fellow,” Matias muttered, closing the book.
The procession lumbered to the encampment and Oxgar stepped out in front of the wagon, marching ahead deeper into the Upper Hall.
On the terrace, the two men kept pace with the Minotaur, careful not to be seen. Fortunately for them, the terrace stretched the length of the Upper Hall and they moved along it until the chamber ended at a colossal pair of iron double doors. The doors were the length of the hall itself and as wide as the entrance to the colony at the other end. The doors were decorated with intricate motifs of cogs and gears similar to those Matias had already encountered. In the centre of the doors was the image of a face. It was elongated and bald with oversized eyes, a hooked nose and a thin unsmiling face. Though the face was cast in iron, it seemed to be watching the Upper Hall. As Oxgar strode towards it, Matias thought the face smiled, but put it down to the strange, low lighting.
Jaggen tugged at Matias’ sleeve, taking his attention away from the strange face. “Look down there,” the older man whispered.
Matias peered into the gloom beneath the doors and spotted a figure hobbling forward to meet the Minotaur. It was another kobold, decrepit and wrapped in a heavy cloak of animal fur. The cloak almost swallowed him and his withered, leathery face poked out from its folds. He wore an oversized headdress made of long black feathers, with a fanged skull centrepiece and one gnarled claw clutched a long, wooden staff that was twice as tall as he was and topped with a piece of obsidian carved into a snarling, bestial face with horns.
“A shaman,” grunted Jaggen. “I had a feeling whatever they’re up to has got something to do with dark magic.”
As they watched from their vantage point, Oxgar went to join the shaman and they conversed for several moments in low voices. The wagon meandered closer to the double doors and the shaman shuffled towards it and raised his staff. He closed his beady eyes and began muttering under his breath, making strange fluttering gestures with the long fingers of his free hand. The bestial face on the top of the staff started to glow with a sickly green light, and a thick green vapour emerged from the face’s fanged mouth. It formed a sinuous serpentine shape and slithered like a living thing across the air.
The mongrel centipede roared and barked louder now, jerking back its head. It tried to break free of the chains the closer it was pulled to the doors leading to the lower colony. The living vapour headed straight towards it and wrapped around the creature’s face. Almost immediately, the mongrel centipede quietened and its head drooped. For the first time since Matias had laid eyes on the wretched thing, it actually fell quiet.
Now the vapour had done its work, the mongrel centipede was far more compliant. It moved along without any more urging and came to a halt at the foot of the doors. The driver of the wagon jumped down and he and the moss mubbs hurried to unshackle the chains under the impatient gaze of the General.
After much cursing and messing about, they finally got the mongrel centipede free and the driver got back on the wagon and moved it out of the way. The shaman raised his staff and the creature scuttled forward, docile and obedient. It lowered its head and the elderly shaman clambered onto its neck. He had his eyes closed and he was muttering under his breath before occasionally letting out a keening whine that put Matias’ nerves on edge. The shaman swayed backwards and forwards on the back of the creature’s neck, with the staff clutched in his claws in front of him, its bottom hovering just a few inches above the creature’s fur.
As the shaman continued to mutter and whine, the staff glowed with a deep red light and began to crackle with lightning energy that danced and flashed in wild, jerking movements. Matias watched with an overwhelming dread as the staff grew brighter and brighter, and he almost jumped out of his skin when the shaman drove the glowing staff down into the mongrel centipede’s neck. The creature’s fur and flesh parted like butter, and it made no sound as the staff sank deeper and deeper into its body. Its legs quivered disgustingly as the thing slowly died and a sickening convulsion went through it. The scene was getting too much even for Matias, and he had to look away.
“Now I understand,” Jaggen said quietly, still watching the proceedings without a flicker of emotion.
“What?” Matias asked in a thick voice.
“Don’t you see what they are doing, druid?” Jaggen retorted. “Mongrel centipedes are the product of a magical experiment that went wrong. Each of them contains a core of magic from that first experiment. The shaman is drawing it out of the centipede and combining that energy with his own power.”
“What for?”
Jaggen nodded toward the shaman. “Isn’t it obvious?”
The shaman’s voice was rising now and he was chanting strange, unrecognisable words. His staff was glowing a vivid red and the corpse of the mongrel centipede blackened beneath his feet, transforming into a charred husk. With an unnatural howl, the shaman yanked the staff out of the creature’s body and the magical energy it contained shot out and smashed into the iron doors with all the force of a freight train. The impact made the entire Upper Hall shudder, and kobolds and moss mubbs cowered in fear.
Grinning in triumph, the shaman fell silent and admired his handiwork. The magical power he had launched at the doors had made them flare crimson red and they seemed to be burning. The sound of gears and machinery slowing grinding to life filled the chamber, and Matias watched in awe as the doors to the lower colony began to open outwards for the Hateling’s servants.
“We should have got ourselves a mage when we tried to get in,” Jaggen grunted. “I had no idea it would be that easy.”
Cackling to himself, the shaman clambered down the side of the mongrel centipede which was now crumbling in on itself, and scuttled over to General Oxgar’s side. If the Minotaur had been impressed by the magic show, he did well in hiding it. He was busy now, barking orders to his men in the kobold language, and they scurried like ants to obey him.
“I think we should get back to the others,” Matias said in a low voice. “I don’t fancy our chances alone if we follow them.”
“Agreed,” said Jaggen. “We’ll pull back and figure out what to do next. We can return with Sour Root’s combustible, and perhaps use it to wipe them all out. Then the colony is ours for the taking.”
The two men backed away from the gallery, when a sudden yell from one of the kobolds below stopped them in their tracks. The scrawny creature was pointing frantically at the far wall on the left hand side of the double doors. He gabbled at his comrades and they stopped what they were doing to check what the commotion was.
Matias was now intrigued and he realised a secret panel had opened in the wall the kobold was pointing at. The panel was almost as large as the double doors themselves, and there suddenly came the sound of heavy clanking footsteps from the dark opening beyond it.
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Matias said.
Jaggen frowned. “Me neither.”
The monsters below seemed to agree and they jabbered at each other in alarm. The footsteps grew louder unti
l a figure about twenty feet tall emerged from the hidden entrance. Matias’ heart stopped in his chest as he took in this new monster. It appeared to be some kind of automation made entirely of gold and fashioned to resemble a slender, beautiful woman. It was completely naked, save for a loin cloth made of silver and an emerald studded tiara attached to the long metallic tresses of its hair. Four long arms extended from its torso, each one holding a huge golden hilted sabre, and it walked on four slender legs in a strange crab-like fashion. Most disturbing of all was the creature’s face. It had been sculpted to possess glacially attractive features, but its mouth was twisted into an unnaturally large grin with gleaming steel spikes for teeth.
“By the Forest Powers!” hissed Jaggen. “I’m looking at a myth!”
“What is it?” Matias asked, unable to take his eyes off the machine.
“It’s called a Grinning Lady,” the older man said. “A mechanical golem created by the gnomes. They possess vast strength and devastating battle prowess. The old stories spoke at how only two Ladies could decimate an army of over ten thousand warriors in a handful of minutes.”
As the Grinning Lady stepped fully into the Upper Hall, a second identical golem followed her. “Looks like we’re about to find out if that’s true,” Matias muttered.
For a moment, nobody moved and the first Lady gazed down at the kobold that had first spotted the secret entrance with wide, sightless eyes of metal. In one swift motion, the Lady made a sweeping motion with one of its sabres and sliced the monster clean in two.
A split second later, the Upper Hall erupted in chaos.
The kobolds and moss mubbs scattered, rushing to the entrance of the colony as the two Ladies ploughed into them. Matias and Jaggen were running as well, pelting along the terrace to escape with the rest of terrified monsters.
The Alchemy Worlds: Enter T(he)rap(y): A LitRPG Adventure Page 14
